


Baking and cooking are different

by Caliras



Series: Dyslexic Stan [20]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, Baking, Child Abuse, Cookies, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Stan, Family Fluff, Fluff, Healing, Nightmares, Past Child Abuse, in second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-04 02:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caliras/pseuds/Caliras
Summary: Stan and Ford meet up with their mom.





	1. Chapter 1

They were going to California today, and Stan could barely control his excitement. They were meeting up with Ma and Shermy, and Stan could tell that Ford was just as excited as him, even if he didn’t show it as visibly. Picking up his suitcase, he slung his arm around his brothers neck, and they headed to the car, makeup and a fake identity already safe in his bag. What? He knew he wasn’t getting on that airplane otherwise. After his brother checked his bag for the millionth time before they left, they hopped in the car, matching grins on their faces, and drove off.

~~~~~~~

The flight was long and as uneventful as it was going to be with Stan onboard. Meaning that he only nearly got banned from flying again. He still stands by the fact that he could’ve taken on the police, but his brother was a killjoy, and wouldn’t let him. But oh well, at least they were on the road again, meaning that Stan had taken out those stupid contacts. Honestly, contacts were the worst, and they itched. Or maybe Stan just didn’t know how to put them in correctly. Whatever. He certainly wasn’t planning on wearing them long enough to figure it out.

When they pulled up to the house, all thoughts of contacts left him as he grinned at the place they’d stay for a few days. Luckily, the last time they saw her, it had ended on a good note, after, of course, they’d both explained what had happened. His mother had seemed torn on whether to punch them or hug them some more, so they’d used her hesitation to explain everything. Afterward, she told them that she was proud of them. Her traveler and her sailor. Her little heros. It was then that Stan was glad he’d learned how to differentiate lies and truth, because she spoke the truth, and Stan had nearly cried. But there had been enough tears that day, so instead he beamed, and that was that.

The second the car stopped, he hopped out of the car, grabbing both of the suitcases and making his way to the door. Ford trailed behind him, awkward as always. Knocking on the door, Stan grinned at his brother, who returned it. The door opened suddenly, startling the two, and they looked at their Ma, who beckoned them in.

She spoke up as they made their way inside, “Shermy will be here tomorrow with his wife. I hope you two have told him that Stan’s not dead, because I sure didn’t.”

Ford and Stan shared a look of pure horror and panic, and she laughed at their expressions.

“Well, I suppose it’s not something to be talked about over the phone, but I hope you’re prepared for the freakout,” She cackled, smirking at the two.

Stan took a moment to look at the room while his brother sputtered beside him. The walls were a creamy tan, and the floor was a deep purple shag carpet. The furniture was a pale purple, with mahogany accents. He figured she had two jobs or found them at a discounted price somewhere because he couldn’t imagine fortune selling to be too profitable. Or maybe it was. Hm. He was brought out of his musing by his mom speaking up again.

“Well I was just about to make some cookies, so if you two would like to join me, you’re welcome to. If not, your rooms are upstairs. I’m sure you’ll find them.”

“Eh, I’ll join you,” Stan replied, excited, but playing it cool, even if he knew that she’d see right through him.

“So will I,” His twin said, looking thrilled at the prospect.

Stan felt a tremor of fear, but his mother had a glint in her eye, and he knew that he couldn’t keep his brother out of the kitchen. Sighing inwardly, he submitted to the inevitable and followed the two, already mentally calculating repair costs. As soon as they were in the kitchen, Stan fell into rhythm with her, with her reading off the recipe and him finding the ingredients. Ford helped gather them, with their mom occasionally giving them hints as to where the ingredients were. Soon enough, everything had been gathered and they began.

At this point, Stan was beginning to get a little nervous. Everything was going smoothly and Ford looked a little too innocent for his tastes. So it shouldn’t have surprised him when his mom suddenly turned towards Ford and held out her hand. Curious, he looked over and yep, Ford was definitely hiding something behind his back. He prayed it wasn’t a knife. Withering under her stare, Ford slowly brought it out from behind his back, looking quite guilty as he placed it on her palm. An onion. Was he planning on putting an onion in cookies?! He looked to his twin, maybe looking for an answer, but Ford just blushed and looked down, mumbling something incoherent.

“What? Why?” He found himself asking, as his brother, who stood up to Bill Cipher, shuffled his feet.

Ford cleared his throat, “I said, wouldn’t onions enhance the flavor?”

Stupefied, Stan could only shake his head as his mother spoke, “No, that's for cooking. This is baking.”

Ford looked puzzled, but didn’t question it. The rest of it went pretty smoothly, though it was interrupted every so often by their ma explaining that the ingredient Ford picked up wouldn’t go in the recipe very well. Sometimes, she’d see him reaching for an ingredient and just pushed his hand down, shaking her head at him. In the end, the cookies came out just fine, even if they both just watched Ford put a pepper on his own cookie before he immediately regretted it. After they all cleaned the kitchen, she showed them to their rooms, Ford settling in the moment he stepped in. Stan on the other hand, had something to give her. Pulling it out of his suitcase, he made his way downstairs, finding her in an armchair, a small smile on her face.

Gathering his courage, he walked over to her, gently pacing the gift on her lap. She smiled warmly at him, picking it up. It was a canvas with a painting of a sunset fading into the midnight sky with stars dotting the sky. It… was something he felt belonged with his mom. He shuffled awkwardly when she said nothing, wishing he’d left when he’d given it to her. Finally, she set it aside, and stood up. A wash of resigned hurt was brushed away when she hugged him.

“Beautiful as always, Stanley. Beautiful as always.” A lot of words went unsaid, but both of them heard them loud and clear.

Stan felt tears well up in his eyes, and he hugged her tighter, not sure whether or not he was imagining her sniffle.

“Now go unpack. You’re going to turn me into a sap, you little troublemaker.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is a nightmare about child abuse, please be careful when reading. If you want to skip that part, I'll put in between a '/'. Slight mentions of abuse afterwards.

/The sound of small feet slapping against unforgiving asphalt and the smell of dingy allies made Stan want to throw up. _Something_ loomed behind him, radiating the promise of pain, and forcing his tiny legs to pump harder. He pushed himself farther, lungs burning, feet near bleeding, and pain shooting down his side. Though that was nothing compared to his blinding fear. He turned a corner, feeling skin rub off his feet, then lept into an ally, pushing himself tight against the wall, hoping it would pass him by. His vision blurred a moment even as he struggled for breath, shaking, but trying not to be too loud. A shadow fell over him and his breathing stopped.

Looking up, he saw a glimpse of a yellow suit, then he was slammed into the foul bricks, held up by arms far stronger than his. He gasped as he was dragged higher, the bricks cutting into his skin. His eyes lifted, finding his own terrified face looking back at him, reflected through Filbrick’s dark glasses . He struggled briefly, feet kicking uselessly in the air, but his air cutting off when his hands tightened gave him all the warning he needed, and he fell limp. His heartbeat was so loud and so fast that he thought, for a moment, that Filbrick could hear it. Filbrick sighed, a heavy thing filled with disappointment and disdain. Stan flinched upon hearing it, knowing that his father preferred little emotion showing, so he must be really, really angry. All fight left Stan as Filbrick began to speak.

“I thought I taught you better. All your life, I tolerated you, but you can’t seem to get it through your thick skull what I want from you,” When Filbrick spoke, it was as if all life had been sucked from the air, even if Stan wanted to protest, say that he didn’t even know what he’d done wrong.

The grip on his collar tightened fractionally, as if he’d expected an answer. But Stan didn’t know what to say, there was nothing _to_ say. One hand let go entirely, he watched it raise in the air slowly, fully knowing its descent would be much faster. Choking back tears, he wrenched his head away, only to see a smaller figure there. They faded into focus slowly, showing Ford looking away from him, short sleeved shirt not doing much to hide the bruises that wound down his arm. They had the distinct shape of fingerprints. He continued watching him, letting the hands fade out of focus, not noticing when it had risen and fallen twice more.

Finally, Ford’s head turned, revealing vacant eyes, and he mouthed two words that made Stan’s heart splinter. ‘Your fault’. He turned back to Filbrick, refusing what he had seen. He tried desperately to shut his eyes, but found that they would not listen. Filbrick shook him, and Stan felt everything become fuzzy, the world around them muting. Static crawled up his throat and down his limbs, making shake his head as he tried to dislodge the feeling.

“No,” He found himself whispering, a weak flicker in his heart, “No, this isn’t… this isn’t right.”

He focused back on Filbrick, who looked shocked, then angry and spoke before he could, “I refuse. I’m still alive. That means he never should have gotten hurt. Not by you, at least. And I’m not a little kid anymore.”

/Suddenly, he was an adult again, feet touching the alley’s ground. This was familiar territory now. He advanced towards Filbrick, who backed away from him. He stepped in time with him, and watched as pieces fell away from Flibrick. It was the like the slow breaking of glass. He opened his mouth, closed it, not knowing what to say, shook his head, and helped Filbrick shatter. He woke up slowly, feeling tears stream down his face, but he didn’t feel hurt or sad or panicked. A bit drained, perhaps, but he was sure of one thing. He was safe.

~~~~~~

The kitchen was dark and quiet, peaceful in a way and somewhat sad in another. Ford had gotten to see what his mom and brother were like in the the kitchen. It was nice to watch them, as their walls fell away and they laughed without reservation. He had felt hurt, for a second, that they did not share it with him when he was younger, but found that he was happy enough to be included now. Whatever reasons they had, he was sure it had something to do with Filbrick. His hand clenched at the thought, and he purposefully relaxed it. Tight fists held no place in this house.

“Wondered who was lurking in my kitchen.”

He spun, finding his mom in the doorway, relaxing against the frame.

He struggled to explain himself, knowing he was only awake because it was a new environment, “Well, it’s just that I- I just couldn’t sle-”

She shook her head at him, “No need to explain, traveler, you can do whatever you want.”

He relaxed and nodded at her, watching curiously as she walked over to the cabinets. She grabbed two mugs, gestured for him to sit down and began boiling water. They both sat in silence for a few moments, her leaning against the counter and him perched in his seat next to the table. Pouring hot water into the mugs, she spooned chocolate milk powder in to the cups, stirred them, and brought them over to the table. Sitting down, she slid over one of the mugs to him. He wrapped his hands around it, but didn’t drink it.

“How…” He began, then stopped, at her gesture though, he continued, “How did you move past it?”

He wanted to clarify, but she set down her cup, sighed and then began to speak, “To be honest I don’t think I ever moved past it. Not fully. What I did do didn’t feel like healing at the time, and I still sometimes wake up in fear. It’s been a long couple of years, but I know that I’m in a better place now. Even talked to a therapist a couple of times. I’m not sure what to tell you, but I do know that it’ll heal. Just like any other wound. It’ll leave a scar too, but it’s better than an open wound.”

He looked down. It probably shouldn’t be affecting him the way it is, since his family had it much worse, but that was it! It was that he never saw past the mask to see what was happening within his own family. It was that he could’ve ended up hurt like them. But most importantly, it was the fact that it happened to them in the first place! They got hurt by someone he thought he was close to, and even thinking that was making him feel sick. They couldn’t move past it like he could, had he never found out, or even right now!

It scared him to think of the things they went through and how oblivious he was to it. He sighed and picked up his hot chocolate, resolving to also talk to a therapist. Chances were, he didn’t need to, but he needed to be on his best game if he was going to support his brother. He’d say his mother too, but it seemed like she had more time to process and heal than his twin did. The two finished off their hot chocolate in silence, then they both washed their cups and returned them.

“So,” she began, small smile on her face, “One of my friends from Glass Shard Beach contacted me recently. She told me about how this guy was looking for Filbrick. Apparently, they made quite the moving speech. Happen to know anyone like that?”

He blushed, turning away as she laughed.

She gently bumped his hip with hers, “Don’t you worry about Filbrick. He won’t hurt us anymore.”

He smiled at her, knowing that she spoke the truth. They were safe. They could heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to end the series here. At this point, I feel as though if I do any more, it'll just be dragging it on, and I've also run out of inspiration. Since this seems like a nice, ambiguous, but hopeful end, this'll probably be the last I post of it. Thank you all for sticking with this and supporting the story! You all have been so nice and I appreciate the feedback you've given me!


End file.
